


Creature Comforts

by AbovetheCloudsandDreaming



Series: Their Purpose - The Episodes [3]
Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Attachment, Codependency, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Ellie is fucking adorable, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Literal Sleeping Together, Love, no seriously like a lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 22:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6212587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbovetheCloudsandDreaming/pseuds/AbovetheCloudsandDreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's late, and someone is feeling extra affectionate. Copious amounts of fluff abounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creature Comforts

**Author's Note:**

> So, I woke up one morning and needed to write something fluffy for Joel and Ellie. Like grossly fluffy. It just... it had to happen. I have no other explanation. So here's some fluff. And I mean lots of fluff.
> 
> Oh. Yeah. Almost forgot. You know that fluff I just mentioned? Here's some more. And then some more on top of that.
> 
> Disclaimer: I will not accept any responsibility for cavities brought on by the insanely sugary-sweet fluff you're about to consume. Nor will I accept responsibility for any exploding daw meters.
> 
> Also, this is not Joel/Ellie... sort of. I mean, It wasn't meant to be. Seriously, it wasn't. This was written as part of the 'Their Purpose' universe, and in that, they are this very strange, intense, co-dependent, overly affectionate father/daughter ship that's brought on by their mountains of PTSD. 
> 
> But I guess it can be read /that/ way if you like. Honestly, I don't even know what to call them anymore. I don't think there's a word in the English dictionary that fully encompasses and accurately describes them. Am I right?
> 
> Please also note that this takes place after the first official "I love you," and after quite a bit of character and relationship development between them (post 'Their Purpose 3'). Though you don't have to read any of the Their Purposes for this self-contained oneshot to make sense.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! :)

Ellie. The sleep monster.

She really was a little monster when she slept, some combination of adorable creature and terrorizing beast that consumed practically every inch of the comforter, sheets, and, well... him too. She was so small, so diminutive and compact. Yet somehow, every night, she always found a way to sprawl out and take up as much of the bed and himself as possible.

Tonight was no exception.

The comforter was only pulled up to his stomach. Any more and he'd cook under there. She ran at a higher temperature than he did, a byproduct of her _gift,_ and always warmed him when they slept, acting as a small, portable and mobile heating unit. Sometimes he thought the amount of BTUs she put out could fry an egg. But that's why _she_ always felt so cold, the stark contrast between the ambient temperature and herself. So he always did his best to return the favor and keep her warm, swaddling her in one of his flannels before retiring to bed. Which she relished anyway, because it smelled like him, and she wasn't afraid to tell him so.

He lowered his head, until his chin was dug firmly into his chest, to look down and take in the sight of her, but was still only able to see her jawline, cheek and ponytail due to her face being buried into the crook of his neck; the little monster nuzzled into him like he was a giant teddy bear. That cute, freckled button of her nose always felt a tad cold when pressed against his skin, but her breaths were the opposite. They came and went in the same pattern, the same manner. Gentle. Warm. Delicate. _Precious._ Soft. Like velvet. And he'd gotten quite used to them actually. To the point that if her next breath, which he'd always anticipate, was delayed any longer than normal he'd start to worry that something was off.

Funny that was. He remembered how little he cared about her during the early stages of their relationship; couldn't have given two shits about what happened to her. But now he was always worrying. Always getting anxious when he thought the slightest thing was abnormal. Always ensuring that she was content and healthy as could be and... _okay,_ because _you_ _can't live without her now old man._

He quietly chuckled to himself at the thought, giving every effort to keep his chest from vibrating or rumbling too much as he did so. Because god forbid he disturbed his little redhead. He wouldn't _dare._ Besides, seeing that subtle smile across her lips while cuddled up with him was a treat all on its own. Why the hell would he want to ruin that?

He sighed. Carefully. Continued adoring her with a veiled smile. But he'd better be extra careful because pretty soon his head would explode from how fucking cute she was and _there are no goddamn words to describe how much I love you._

He reached the hand on his free arm over, the arm that wasn't currently pinned beneath her and clutched around her small frame, then tenderly pushed aside a pesky bang that dangled down her face and hid those freckled cheeks of hers. A muted sound, some subdued peep from the back of her throat, escaped through her nose with one of her breaths. She shifted, barely, cheek rubbing against his shirt and nose dragging another half-inch down his neck.

Still clinging to the concealed smile across his lips, he closed his eyes, took a slow, deep breath, and tried not to focus on the numbing sensation in his shoulder, where her head was. Sometimes he wanted to move, shift, adjust her in some way, peel off the dead-weight that was her passed-out, tiny self. Which, by the way, always felt like a gazillion pounds. He wasn't sure why dead-weight-Ellie felt like a megaton whereas Ellie felt light as a feather.

But it didn't matter. He never moved her. Never. Wouldn't even make a stealthy or sly attempt at it. Her comfort, her satisfaction, her needs, they always came first. But he wondered when he'd get accustomed to that numb feeling, since it was a regular occurrence pretty much every night at this point. After all, she always ended up falling asleep in the same position. Exactly how she was now...

And it would always begin the same way. She'd get under the covers, wiggle close to him and stretch one of her pale skinny arms across his chest, then grasp at his shirt and intertwine its fabric with her fingers. Then she'd sigh happily, smile, and begin talking about something. Something that happened that day. Something that happened days ago, weeks ago, months ago, years ago. Some story about her getting into trouble in the orphanage because of a playful or mischievous deed. Sometimes even a deep, philosophical debate with herself about the moon, stars and the universe or god knows what. It didn't really matter what it was, she just started talking. To him. And he loved it. Well, _now_ he did. Those feisty, talkative moods of hers used to drive him to the edge of insanity.

But then inevitably, within only a few minutes of claiming to be comfy of course, she'd shift around, adjust herself to her liking. She'd nestle deeper into the mattress and him; more him than the mattress really, always treating his much larger frame like a nest. Then she'd shift again, finding the oddest, yet most effective ways of getting closer to him. Then another adjustment... and another, like a cat trying to get comfortable atop a cushion or blanket. Spin a circle, knead, spin a circle, knead, maybe spin another circle and knead once more for good measure, and only _then_ settle down to begin an epic purr session.

And settling down to sleep was exactly their current state. Which was him lying on his back, legs outstretched to the base of the mattress, one arm holding her tight. She was on her side, safely nestled between his arm and torso, head on his shoulder, face so deeply buried into his neck he wondered how she could even breathe. One of her legs was bent at the knee and angled up with a flex in her hip, lying between both of his while she sideways-straddled his waist. The other was beneath her and pressed up against him, sometimes straight, sometimes also bent at the knee like the other, toes usually dug underneath his calf in some manner.

That arm of hers though always remained stretched across his chest, its small hand starting things off by grabbing a clump of his shirt as if something would rip him away and he'd disappear forever if she didn't; as if she were holding onto him for dear life. And in a way she was. But eventually, as that restless noodle of hers _finally_ approached sleep, her fingers would loosen their grasp, uncurling a bit then simply resting on his neck or his shoulder opposite of her.

Right now they were loose, but he felt them tighten around his collar just a bit when he pushed aside her bangs a few minutes prior. He lowered his free hand, then gently grabbed her wrist and raised it, having some weird desire to admire and inspect her arm and little Elliehand.

That Elliehand, it was so small. It felt so dainty and fragile in his much larger, scarred and callused palm. Yet, he knew it was also responsible for killing hundreds of Infected and Hunters.

He held it. Caressed it. Rubbed it with his fingers. Brought it to his lips and kissed it. Despite what that Elliehand had been through, it was still soft to the touch. Delicate like her sleep-ridden breaths, but also terrifyingly strong when she needed it to be.

He examined her fingers, taking note of their narrow shape, none of them bigger than his pinkie. _Tssht, Christ, adorable_. They looked and felt like soft, pliable, little french fries. French fries from one of those McDonald's Happy Meals he used to get for Sarah. There were no scars, hardly any calluses, and he wondered how that were even possible. He wondered if her little Elliefeet too, which were currently dug under or tangled with his legs in some way, lacked the same signs of struggling-to-survive as her hands did.

His were rough, callused, scarred, clearly showing signs of wear and tear after years of travel, battle and brushes with death. But not hers, because _o_ _f course they don't. Girl somehow manages to look innocent an' perfect every damn day._

And she did, aside from the massive scar on her right arm and the small one above her eye of course. But that massive scar, he never shied away from it, never tried to pretend it wasn't there. It was part of her, part of Ellie, part of _them,_ and he loved every part of her, so he loved it too. It never made him think of her as sick, tainted, or "the Infected-Girl." No, instead it reminded him of how... precious, _special,_ and important she was, not just to him but to humanity as well.

That thought was oddly warming to dwell on, selfish old man he was, because unbeknownst to all of mankind and every person who remained on planet earth, the possible cure for all would curl up and snuggle into the safety of his arms every night. It was _their_ secret. And he sure as hell intended on keeping it that way. For her. For him, _for us._

Although, those two scars weren't always the only leftover signs of pain or trouble. During their travels, her feet and hands did get bruised and scratched up like his. But her youthfulness healed it all rather quickly after being safe in Napa for a few months. And _fuck_ was he intent on keeping that innocent youthfulness intact. That childlike wonder of hers, whatever shreds of it remained, he swore he'd do his absolute best to retain it; intent on protecting her at all costs and hoping she could be happy and carefree for just a little bit, his paternal ways always trying to make up for lost time.

Those endearing qualities in her were signs that perhaps he'd done a good job raising - loving - her in the past year-and-a-half they'd been together. And she deserved his caring attention. All of it. Whether she knew it or not, she'd given so much to him and he was ready to give _all_ of it back to her, again and again. And _I ain't ever lettin' a single strand of red hair on that head of yours come to harm baby girl. I swear it._

Sans Joel, that era of her life _before_ fate brought them together, she'd never experienced real... _affection_. What it was like to be loved. To receive attention. To be held, _really_ held. To be cuddled. To be taken care of and nurtured. To actually fall asleep in a warm place that she _knew_ was one-hundred percent safe, safe to let her guard down and be vulnerable; his arms. But now that she _did_ have him, well... she loved it, loved him, and infinitely soaked all of it up like a giant sponge.

With the hand that was resting on her shoulder, he gently glided his knuckles against her cheek and stroked her hair, then took another deep breath. He gradually lowered hers back to its previous resting place, his chest, but immediately felt those petite french-fry-fingers curl into his shirt as she squirmed and let out a peep, a muffled cry of _his_ name. Maybe she wasn't fully asleep? Or maybe she was having a nightmare?

"Shh no no baby, it's okay it's okay," he softly soothed, lips pressed against her hair. Her squirming ceased, all of the sudden tension skittering out of her body in a flash like a swarm of vermin dispersing in every direction.

Then another peep from the back of her throat, a light puff of air from her nose and one final, hardly noticeable twitch of the head.

"Shh we're okay honey... we're okay, I'm here," he continued, tucking her into him. He cupped her cheek with a palm then rubbed her small chin with a finger. Despite being hardened by all of the horrors she'd endured, the little girl still felt so fucking _breakable_ under his strong hands. And somehow, that always increased his desire to fiercely protect her like a lion guarding its cub, because he'd die before letting anyone or anything break _his_ Ellie.

Her subtle smile returned, his tender touch reminding her of where she was, and in her half-asleep state she absentmindedly nuzzled his hand.

Occasionally she'd have nightmares, even while coddled and wrapped in his embrace. But he'd always gently shake her out of them, then coo into her ear a series of soft and sweet assurances that everything was okay. That he still had her, was still holding her, and that he'd _never_ abandon and leave her. Forever. Always. Then he'd squeeze her a bit tighter, hold her a bit closer, clutch her a bit firmer, peck her forehead, cheeks and nose with more kisses than normal. And within seconds her breathing would calm, and she'd always end up _smiling,_ enjoying the extra affection and making no attempt to hide it. Hell, sometimes he even thought she'd "fake" having bad dreams just so he _would_ shower her with added love and care, _pssht, clever little bugger she is._ But what the fuck was he gonna do? Say no? Yeah right.

He pulled her up a bit, close enough so his lips could stretch down to her forehead, then gave her a kiss.

She shifted again, and let out a strange, weird noise of confusion.

"Uunnnnhh what're you doing," she said, words drawn out, voice whiny and tired as she _instinctively_ wiggled to get even more on top of him. He didn't know it was possible, but leave it to the clever mistress-of-sleep creature she was to find a way.

He sighed and smiled, then simply stroked her hair again, mindlessly curling a strand of it around his index finger.

She smiled at the contact, shrugged her shoulders a bit, tried to curl into his touch even more, her previous scant amount of irritation scampering away immediately. Then a yawn, the adorable sound all squeaky and airy as usual, and she smacked her lips together in some strange form of satisfaction when finished. "Mmmm... am I keeping you awake?" she asked with closed eyes, re-nuzzling into his neck.

He snickered at that, at her, at her endearing sounds. "Reckon you are there missy," he said, voice deep, raspy, gravelly and Joel-like. But there was something in it that told her it was all in jest. And it sort of was, because she _was_ preventing him from dozing off, just not in the way that she thought. Yeah, his arm and shoulder were going numb, but _that_ wasn't why he was still awake.

So he clutched her close, tugged her a bit more on top of him, immediately putting to rest any notion or idea of hers to roll away and give him more space.

She suddenly inhaled and squeaked in surprise from the tightening grasp, then lifted her head and emitted a delighted chirp, "oh!" She smiled again, ponytail bobbing behind her head, eyes lighting up, nose mere inches from the beard across his jawline. "Just needed more of me I see," she said in that typical, playful and taunting tone of hers, voice still tired but soft as silk.

He snorted. "You're too damn cute for your own good."

He wasn't going to lie to her. Nope. Never again. But that response _certainly_ was true. And she knew what was implied; him adoring her while she slept, watching over her like the protective guardian he became.

"Aaaaaaand you don't think I fucking know that?" she said with another impish smile. And something in her voice and expression said she caught him in the act, but he wasn't about to admit it.

Afraid she'd rope it out of him eventually, which she would because she always won _that_ game, he kissed her on the cheek. There wasn't much light, it was quite dark, both of them only barely able to make out each other's faces. But hers lit up from the display of affection, the whites of her teeth showing, and he knew it did.

"But... now... now the other one feels left out," she said in a pitiful tone, forcing her smile into a pout.

He chuckled, wrapped his other arm around her back and pulled her up some more. "Well, my little Ellie needs to c'mere then," he said, as if somehow there was more space left between them that she had yet to reside in.

She obeyed. And was now lying completely on top of him, chin resting on the center of his clavicle, legs between his, and feet reaching to only just below his knees while she remained wrapped in his arms. His hands were interlocked across the small of her back, encasing her in that warm, protected space she loved so much.

He kissed her other cheek, giving it an audible, wet and lengthy smooch.

Her eyes widened, sparkled, went big and round. Now she was beaming, looking up at him with doe-eyes and smiling like... god knows what, something fucking amazing, exquisite and pure. Like something none of the atoms in the entirety of the universe had yet to produce until _right_ now.

"Better sweet pea?" he asked with a subtle, proud smile of his own as he rubbed the scar above her eye with a thumb.

"Mmmm... but now my nose feels lonely you ass!" she said all happy and kittenish, jabbing his chest with a fist.

Without delay, he gave the bridge of her nose a long, loving kiss. Maybe towards the end even giving it a _gentle_ and affectionate nip as well, ever so slightly, as if it were a fresh strawberry ripe for the plucking.

The cute freckled thing crinkled beneath his lips, and her face filled with reddish heat from a touch of embarrassment. She lightly shook her head to break free, unhitching a series of giggles and smiles that she knew were not Ellie-like in any way, all girly and stupid as hell and would've made her feel so self-conscious if they weren't within the walls of their home. "Eeeeek! S-s-s-stawwwwwp! That tickles!"

But she _was_ in her home. And there was just something about his affectionate arms that brought to life some part of her that'd been buried and hidden away for fourteen years.

While uncorking a boisterous laugh, he flopped his head back onto the pillow, the rising and falling of his chest moving her little frame along with it. "You said it was lonely, now it ain't," he said through his chuckles.

"Whelp, guess I can't say I disagree," she replied with a humored shrug.

She sighed happily, then returned to her previous position, as if she'd done so a thousand times before and knew _exactly_ where and how to be up against him. "Ellie needs her sleep big guy. And so do you," she said through another yawn, patting his chest with a small hand.

He lowered his head, kissed her hair and dug his nose into it. She smelled like she usually did, which he loved of course. Each day there was only enough hot water for one of them to shower, and it was his turn that day, not hers, so she didn't smell particularly clean. But she didn't smell dirty either. She never did, somehow, regardless of what level of sweaty and gross the auburn-haired sprite managed to achieve. Even when she was "smelly," she still smelled weirdly good, great in fact. His precious, sweet, darling angel - well, he shouldn't get too ahead of himself, she was only _part_ angel, they established that long ago - couldn't actually be "gross" even if she tried. No matter what, she just always smelled like... _Ellie_. Not of girly, fruit-scented soaps or shampoos from before the outbreak, no. Earthy. Natural. Sweet. Almost indescribable. Just... her. Just his little girl. Just... _Ellie._

What a fragrance it was. He called it the Ellie-scent. It was unique, special, _hers_ \- _his -_ and ridiculously wonderful in every way, nothing else in the world like it. And he'd gotten so accustomed to it that if he didn't experience it at least once during the night, falling asleep seemed impossible. It was soothing. As always.

So he deeply inhaled, took all of it in as much as he could, and smiled against her hair. "Night my little baby girl. Love you to death sweetheart," he said, the testament muffled against her scalp.

 _That's me! I'm his little baby girl!_ Her fingers tightly curled into the fabric of his shirt in an expression of joy, and her cheeks dimpled as she couldn't help but grin so wide it nearly hurt. Then she exhaled, relaxing into every part of his embrace. "I... I can move if you're not comfy... maybe," she said, reluctance and hesitation behind every word.

He snorted like it was the most absurd thing he'd ever heard, paused and went quiet for a few seconds, then gave way to an uneven smirk. "Comfort's overrated," he grumbled.

That smile of hers found a way to widen even more, and she let out an airy, _very_ light and subtle laugh while nuzzling deeper into the crook of his neck. Because Joel _was_ comfy right now. So comfy that there was no way in hell he was about to move, about to _leave_ her. Fuck the painful numbing in his arm and shoulder.

And right now Ellie was so comfy and warm and _loved_ and _cherished_ and felt so fucking amazing that she could actually _cry_ and be just fine with it.


End file.
